The Escape
by Opie Lives
Summary: He was the last survivor of an ill-fated expedition. This is the story of one prisoner's last chance at freedom. Set in the Original Trilogy.


Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars and have zero plans to make any money off this story.

 **The Escape, A Tale From The Star Wars Universe**

Part: 1

I lay where I had drug myself from the water, hopefully hidden in the tall grass and ferns. Around me the cries and chanting of the savages kept my battered body still. The river I had fallen into during my escape had washed me several miles and the ice cold water had numbed the pain that my body had become. I knew I was helpless if I was found and willed myself to be silent.

I was nude and beaten, both from the clubs of the savages and the rocks that the river's current had pounded me into. My bare feet were swollen and rubbed raw from running through the rough forest. Around me the tall forest was silent and my training warned me that the forest is never silent. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering as sound finally reached me; the quiet footfalls seemed to be all around me.

I had been the last of the prisoners and was fortunate that the savages had slowed as my turn arrived. We had underestimated the furry little natives of this moon and paid for it dearly. The tenderizer was what VP-114 had called it. They had released us one by one, and made us run through them as they swung stone clubs and stabbed with short spears. Until I made it through, nobody else had escaped the gauntlet or the cooking pots of the village.

I'm not sure how long I lay there, perhaps I had passed out at some point, but eventually the silence around me ceased. It had begun with the buzzing of some flying insect. Soon the noise of birds had joined in. I still heard the chanting, but it was far away; in the direction of the village I had escaped from. To be safe I lay there another hour before deciding to make my move.

At first my arms refused to respond, but I willed them under me and pushed my cramped body upward. It took a terrible effort but I was able to turn over into a sitting position. Around me was nothing but green, except for the huge brown trees that seemed to climb forever. We had thought our deck officer was being dramatic when he had briefed us on the forest moon of Endor. But that's all this place was. You couldn't even see the waterways from space, the trees blocked them out. The only breaks were the few clearings and the small mountains that rose sporadically.

I had no idea of what to do. I was alone and lost. If what I had heard was true, the fleet had suffered a major loss and I could expect no help. We had supply caches scattered around, but I had no clue as to where to start looking. I knew I couldn't sit here. The forest had predators and the savages could return. To stay was to become dinner and I hadn't been grown for that.

There was a tree branch nearby and I crawled to it. It was sturdy and nearly as long as I am tall. I grabbed it and used it to force myself upright. Looking down was a mistake. Everything I could see was bruised, scraped or cut and I had a nasty gash in my side from a spear. I now had to hope I hadn't lost too much blood or would slip into shock when the numbness faded. I took a tentative step forward and it was like walking through fire, my feet were so raw. But I gritted my teeth and took another step using the branch to stay upright.

Scout Troopers don't quit. The mantra automatically jumped into my mind. That was the first lesson my vat mates and I learned. It was beaten into us through the training cycles and it became a religion to those of us who survived.

By my fifth step I had come up with a plan. It wasn't a good plan, but hopefully it didn't end with me being on a menu. The rebels had set up several bases to do repairs and cleanup wreckage. I would walk until I found one, or a patrol at least, and surrender. They may execute me on site, but it was still better than what the savages would do.

I stumbled along until nightfall, falling and willing myself to stand up several times. Just before dark I found a tree with a large hollow in it and crawled inside. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep immediately. Sometime in the night I awoke to the sound of a shuttle overhead and saw a search light penetrating the dense forest. I watched as long as I could see it and decided to follow that direction in the morning. I knew there was no guarantee of anything in that direction but it was at least something. My sleep after that was fitful, full of chanting and screams.

I made it several miles the next day through sheer determination. My body was played out from my wounds, exhaustion and lack of water or food. I knew I was done for if something didn't happen soon. That was when I reached the clearing.

It wasn't a natural clearing for the most part. The plant life was charred from blaster burns. I hurried forward, dumb in hindsight but I was thinking clearly enough to be cautious. The next thing I knew I was face down on the ground, having tripped over something. When I rolled over I saw the body.

It was a rebel wearing one of the camouflaged ponchos their special forces favored. I crawled to him and would have cried if I had any moisture left. He still had his survival pack and a canteen. A full canteen it turned out and I took a hard swig of lukewarm water. After another swig I stopped myself, not wanting to get cramps and knowing I would need water later. After downing a ration bar and a sip of water I pulled out a med pack. I cleaned the spear wound and bandaged it then went to work on my feet. There wasn't any bacta patches in the kit, but I cleaned and medicated them as well as I could and sprayed them with synth-skin. I bandaged them and then gave myself a shot of something that looked like it would fight infections.

After eating another ration bar I looked the rebel over. He was about my size and I could make do with his clothes. I started by pulling his helmet off and then stopped and stared. He bore a passing resemblance to me with his brown eyes and red hair. Thanks to running the gauntlet I even had a scar similar to the one on his chin. I reached out and touched his face when my mind was yanked back to days before.

The Ewoks, I believe that's what their designation is, were fascinated that most of us shared the same face. We were all herded together, our hands bound behind our backs. Nineteen of us scout Troopers and several officers and regular army. We were the ones they liked the most though.

They kept us hidden until the rebels left the village and that should have concerned us. But those things look harmless, like a pet or a child's toy. The day after the rebels left they pulled two of us out; VP-376 and VP-1151. They started touching the troopers faces like I was doing. Nobody was laughing when those wicked little stone knives were brought out.

I've seen some horrible things. I've done some things that could be considered horrible, but orders are orders. But what I saw that day was the stuff of nightmares. The screams were almost as bad. 1151 was the lucky one, he passed out. 376 wasn't so lucky. I see two things now when I close my eyes; the glistening red skull of 376 screaming like a dying animal and the savages dancing and chanting around their fire, two of them wearing the faces of my brothers.

Fortunately both of them were unconscious or dead when they started roasting them. That smell at least helped cover the smells of vomit and urine from some of us who couldn't control their reactions.

When they next came to us the officers ordered us to attack, figuring our size would overwhelm them even with our hands bound. The two regular army guys got off easy. They were killed instantly, riddled with spears and arrows. The Ewoks must have known who issued the orders because the drug the officers out and went to work on them with those heavy stone war clubs. Pulp is the only word that I can think of to describe what was left. After several days without food I can at least say that mine wasn't the only one growling at the smell coming from the stew pots.

They gave us water the next day, and we realized something bad was coming. VP-297 was the first to be removed. He was pretty badly injured the day before and walked out of the pen without being prodded. The cut his hands free and pointed toward the forest. Maybe forty of the savages were lined up on either side of the path. 297 was slow starting and the nudged him with their spears. He stumbled forward and barely made it into the gauntlet before falling to the clubs and spears.

Every hour they took another of us, working through the least healthy. By dark only eight of us were left. Each of us relatively strong and unscathed. Each of us thought we could break through the gauntlet and had plans in our heads. Four of us were left the next day when I figured out the trap. They did it that way on purpose to give us hope we could escape. It kept us in line so we didn't do anything to spoil their fun.

Three of us were left when VP-114 broke down. I guess not every defect is caught in the cloning chamber. He was on the ground curled up in a ball, crying.

"They're tenderizing us…that's a tenderizer…" He repeated over and over.

I was glad they pulled him out next. And I was surprised. He didn't give them a chance to untie his hands before taking off, running full speed into the gauntlet. They were surprised also and he made it better than halfway before they finished him.

They saved me for last and it was early evening. I had noticed they were getting tired and bored; and that there weren't as many of them in the gauntlet. As soon as my hands were free I ran, bouncing away from each savage. They grazed me with their clubs but were clearly taking it easy, savoring their last kill. I wasn't taking it easy and at the halfway point I made my move.

I had noticed that the bastard in the middle was fat, slow and clumsy and hadn't made a serious swing at anybody. So when I reached him I bounced like I had at each one, but this time towards him and caught him in the face with my knee.

Then I was running all out, trusting my longer legs to give me an advantage over the short savages. Spears, arrows and rocks whizzed by me, I felt something tug at my side, but I kept going; ignoring the branches tearing at me and the undergrowth ripping my feet. After a couple of miles I slowed, still keeping my pace brisk. I slowed to a walk when the sun finally went down, but kept going, until I ran out of ground.

I stepped forward into nothing and fell several feet into fast moving water. It pulled me down and bashed me against a rock but I fought to the surface and was pulled along with the current, bouncing off rocks. At some point I knocked into a fallen tree and grabbed it, pulling myself to the shore.

The rebel's jumpsuit was loose but fit well enough. I left the boots off, my feet were too swollen to even try them. I used the rebel's knife to cut some of the poncho and wrapped my feet, hoping that would protect them. Then I pulled the poncho over my head and picked of his survival pack and rifle, then grabbing my branch I staggered on.

Days later and I had given up hope. My rations were low and I still hadn't found anyone. The only good news was that I could wear boots again and could actually walk. I had decided to find a place to set up camp and start gathering supplies when I practically walked into them.

We had stepped around one of the huge tree at the same time and would have collided if it wasn't for my training. A sense of relief flooded through me as I looked up. Two humans in jump suits and carrying a scanner were staring at me like they had seen a ghost.

Notes: I know, Ewoks are cute and cuddly. But after watching Return of the Jedi for the nine thousandth time two things about them jumped out at me. One was that they were planning on feasting on Luke, Han and Chewie. Two is the image of them using storm trooper helmets for drums.


End file.
